Virginian, The The. Owen WisterЧитать онлайн книгу.
“That’s a heap too pussy-kitten for me.”
They laughed. The sage-brush audience is readily cynical.
“Look for the man, I say,” Trampas pursued. “And ain’t he there? She leaves Baldy sit on the fence while she and Lin McLean—”
They laughed loudly at the blackguard picture which he drew; and the laugh stopped short, for the Virginian stood over Trampas.
“You can rise up now, and tell them you lie,” he said.
The man was still for a moment in the dead silence. “I thought you claimed you and her wasn’t acquainted,” said he then.
“Stand on your laigs, you polecat, and say you’re a liar!”
Trampas’s hand moved behind him.
“Quit that,” said the Southerner, “or I’ll break your neck!”
The eye of a man is the prince of deadly weapons. Trampas looked in the Virginian’s, and slowly rose. “I didn’t mean—” he began, and paused, his face poisonously bloated.
“Well, I’ll call that sufficient. Keep a-standin’ still. I ain’ going to trouble yu’ long. In admittin’ yourself to be a liar you have spoke God’s truth for onced. Honey Wiggin, you and me and the boys have hit town too frequent for any of us to play Sunday on the balance of the gang.” He stopped and surveyed Public Opinion, seated around in carefully inexpressive attention. “We ain’t a Christian outfit a little bit, and maybe we have most forgotten what decency feels like. But I reckon we haven’t forgot what it means. You can sit down now, if you want.”
The liar stood and sneered experimentally, looking at Public Opinion. But this changeful deity was no longer with him, and he heard it variously assenting, “That’s so,” and “She’s a lady,” and otherwise excellently moralizing. So he held his peace. When, however, the Virginian had departed to the roasting steer, and Public Opinion relaxed into that comfort which we all experience when the sermon ends, Trampas sat down amid the reviving cheerfulness, and ventured again to be facetious.
“Shut your rank mouth,” said Wiggin to him, amiably. “I don’t care whether he knows her or if he done it on principle. I’ll accept the roundin’ up he gave us—and say! You’ll swallo’ your dose, too! Us boys’ll stand in with him in this.”
So Trampas swallowed. And what of the Virginian?
He had championed the feeble, and spoken honorably in meeting, and according to all the constitutions and by-laws of morality, he should have been walking in virtue’s especial calm. But there it was! he had spoken; he had given them a peep through the key-hole at his inner man; and as he prowled away from the assemblage before whom he stood convicted of decency, it was vicious rather than virtuous that he felt. Other matters also disquieted him—so Lin McLean was hanging round that schoolmarm! Yet he joined Ben Swinton in a seemingly Christian spirit. He took some whiskey and praised the size of the barrel, speaking with his host like this: “There cert’nly ain’ goin’ to be trouble about a second helpin’.”
“Hope not. We’d ought to have more trimmings, though. We’re shy on ducks.”
“Yu’ have the barrel. Has Lin McLean seen that?”
“No. We tried for ducks away down as far as the Laparel outfit. A real barbecue—”
“There’s large thirsts on Bear Creek. Lin McLean will pass on ducks.”
“Lin’s not thirsty this month.”
“Signed for one month, has he?”
“Signed! He’s spooning our schoolmarm!”
“They claim she’s a right sweet-faced girl.”
“Yes; yes; awful agreeable. And next thing you’re fooled clean through.”
“Yu’ don’t say!”
“She keeps a-teaching the darned kids, and it seems like a good growed-up man can’t interest her.”
“YU’ DON’T SAY!”
“There used to be all the ducks you wanted at the Laparel, but their fool cook’s dead stuck on raising turkeys this year.”
“That must have been mighty close to a drowndin’ the schoolmarm got at South Fork.”
“Why, I guess not. When? She’s never spoken of any such thing—that I’ve heard.”
“Mos’ likely the stage-driver got it wrong, then.”
“Yes. Must have drownded somebody else. Here they come! That’s her ridin’ the horse. There’s the Westfalls. Where are you running to?”
“To fix up. Got any soap around hyeh?”
“Yes,” shouted Swinton, for the Virginian was now some distance away; “towels and everything in the dugout.” And he went to welcome his first formal guests.
The Virginian reached his saddle under a shed. “So she’s never mentioned it,” said he, untying his slicker for the trousers and scarf. “I didn’t notice Lin anywheres around her.” He was over in the dugout now, whipping off his overalls; and soon he was excellently clean and ready, except for the tie in his scarf and the part in his hair. “I’d have knowed her in Greenland,” he remarked. He held the candle up and down at the looking-glass, and the looking-glass up and down at his head. “It’s mighty strange why she ain’t mentioned that.” He worried the scarf a fold or two further, and at length, a trifle more than satisfied with his appearance, he proceeded most serenely toward the sound of the tuning fiddles. He passed through the store-room behind the kitchen, stepping lightly lest he should rouse the ten or twelve babies that lay on the table or beneath it. On Bear Creek babies and children always went with their parents to a dance, because nurses were unknown. So little Alfred and Christopher lay there among the wraps, parallel and crosswise with little Taylors, and little Carmodys, and Lees, and all the Bear Creek offspring that was not yet able to skip at large and hamper its indulgent elders in the ball-room.
“Why, Lin ain’t hyeh yet!” said the Virginian, looking in upon the people. There was Miss Wood, standing up for the quadrille. “I didn’t remember her hair was that pretty,” said he. “But ain’t she a little, little girl!”
Now she was in truth five feet three; but then he could look away down on the top of her head.
“Salute your honey!” called the first fiddler. All partners bowed to each other, and as she turned, Miss Wood saw the man in the doorway. Again, as it had been at South Fork that day, his eyes dropped from hers, and she divining instantly why he had come after half a year, thought of the handkerchief and of that scream of hers in the river, and became filled with tyranny and anticipation; for indeed he was fine to look upon. So she danced away, carefully unaware of his existence.
“First lady, centre!” said her partner, reminding her of her turn. “Have you forgotten how it goes since last time?”
Molly Wood did not forget again, but quadrilled with the most sprightly devotion.
“I see some new faces to-night,” said she, presently.
“Yu’ always do forget our poor faces,” said her partner.
“Oh, no! There’s a stranger now. Who is that black man?”
“Well—he’s from Virginia, and he ain’t allowin’ he’s black.”
“He’s a tenderfoot, I suppose?”
“Ha, ha, ha! That’s rich, too!” and so the simple partner explained a great deal about the Virginian to Molly Wood. At the end of the set she saw the man by the door take a step in her direction.
“Oh,” said she, quickly, to the partner, “how warm it is! I must see how those babies are doing.” And she passed the Virginian in a breeze of unconcern.
His